


Jurassic Returns

by lettalady



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: Gen, because tom hiddleston's fanboy heart deserves to be a part of the franchise, jurassic park franchise, jurassic world au of sorts, tom hiddleston fancast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Summary: Whatever happened to Timothy and Alexis Murphy?





	Jurassic Returns

**H** ere’s the thing about being hunted by 150 kilogram, 2 meter tall (on average, meaning the ones that he remembers really could have been much  _much_  bigger) killing machines: you never really get over it. Especially when said incident occurs when you’ve yet to achieve years beyond your adolescence, and have what some might consider a ‘healthy’ imagination.

Therapy, bought with the best the family blood money can buy, can work wonders in terms of reducing the night terrors and – ahem – the bed wetting. (Not that we all don’t _accidentally_ wet the bed when we’re younger!) By all accounts the little boy that went to that island never reappeared. He went to the island to ooh and aaah over the creatures he’d dreamt about, and ended up spending the rest of his youth and part of his adulthood wishing he could forget.

  


* * *

Begrudgingly, he follows the script. All the while he’s keeping a tally of what the man sitting opposite is hearing, what this man is falling for. Aren’t they supposed to be on guard? Only hiring the best? 

> “Dinosaurs have been a part of my life for a very long time.”

True.

> “I have worked hard to get to be here today, and would love to become part of your organization.”

Also true, in a roundabout way.

> “This is a dream job, for me.”

Mostly true, if one overlooks the fact that sometimes the dreams are, in fact, nightmares.

> “It is very nice to meet you, too. My name is Tom.”

Lie. But if he gave his real name he’d never have gotten in the door. 

Thanks to Lexi’s in-your-face campaign tactics, if he claimed his family ties he never would have managed to set foot on company property.

Somehow, his need to escape what had happened to them all those years ago on Isla Nublar had played right into Lexi’s plans. Nevermind the fact that it had taken him years and years for the nightmares resulting from their brush with death to leave him – she said jump and now here he sits, staring at the steel reinforced gunmetal door, knowing all too well what horrors lurk beyond.

Rows of teeth, and claws, and a cold mercilessness.

For about 15 years – no, more than that – he lived free of his grandfather’s bloody legacy. Changing his name and moving and moving (and moving again) until he had finally found something resembling a normal life. He was able to just be plain old Tommy H - chosen because something stripped down and close to the truth was easier to remember than something completely fabricated - and study and do what he wanted. Experience thrills and joys and heartache without being the little boy that survived the carnage.

He never knew how people were going to react when they found out his true identity, and somehow they always did. Some squinted at him in disbelief, and were cruel in their assumptions. Some were wide eyed and awestruck, wanting to pamper and question and coo.

He hated that the most.

  


* * *

  


* * *

He should have just left it well enough alone after seeing the message from her in his inbox. He should have put two and two together and definitely shouldn’t have picked up the latest of his burner phones when she called. Conversations with her always ended up giving him a headache. 

And now his tea has gone cold, too.

“How better to prevent it from happening to someone else, Tim—“

“That’s not my name anymore, Lex.” He interjects.

Alexis’ laugh comes over the line, pausing her persuasion for only a moment. “It’s always been your name, you ninny.” He doesn’t bother asking how she got his number, just accepted that she found him and listened to what she had to say. His caution over only communicating with her from public locations and internet cafes had barely slowed her down. She is a hacker, after all. “We have to stop them.”

Them. The corporation that had stolen their grandfather’s dream – as flawed as it already was – and turned it into something worse. If John Hammond’s sin was dreaming, INGEN’s sin was bringing that dream to life and convincing the awed public that it was  _safe_.

“Then stop them,” He counters, knowing deep down that his sister has already recruited him, despite his reservations. “Hack in and freeze their funds or something. Shut down their entire system.” Admittedly it’s a silly thing to say. He knows she’s done that, or tried to do that already, but he can’t help drag his feet, grasping at anything he can.

“Oh what a good idea!” She deadpans a response, “Because they’re not running a contained system. And even when I got someone inside, they observed fail-safes in place to try to prevent another Nublar incident from happening.”

The reference to their own horrible experience on the island makes the hair on the back on his neck stand on end. Add to that the fact that he can hear keystrokes and suddenly feels the need to pay for his cold tea and crepes and start running. He won’t get far, he knows it, but still, the urge is there.

Better to get in the practice now before something worse than his sister is chasing him.

“So why send me? If you’ve already got a man inside? Why send in your  _brother_?”  He’s got that one last card to play. Appeal to her sense of family.

“It didn’t work out.”

She doesn’t elaborate.

He swallows hard during the brief silence that follows. There’s a sign somewhere that has been updated to say –  _0 days since our last incident_. Groaning, he leans forward to bury his face in his free hand. “Let me guess. Did he get eaten?”

“Would you quit stalling and pay? This van eats gas like none other.”

He stands up, peering through the restaurant’s large windows, quickly spotting the van across the street. It’s an easy enough task. It’s the only larger vehicle idling at the curb.

She’s been waiting for him this entire time. Was there ever an option for him to say no?

  


* * *

  


* * *

Her plan has kept him from sleeping, pretty much at all, for the past week. He doesn’t like it, not one bit.

_We need somebody in there we can trust_  – she said.

Once again it makes him wonder who she had sent in before, and just how much information they had managed to feed her before all communication stopped. Poor fool. What had she promised them? What was worth their life? 

_I need eyes on to figure out how bad it really is_  – she said.

And this plan is supposed to manage that, is it? Why can’t she go? Isn’t that  **EYES ON**  enough?

_Nobody will suspect a thing, everything will be_  fine – she said.

Fine? Nothing about his life has been ‘fine’ for a very long time. He might have been fine once, a long long time ago. Some days he thinks he’s even getting close to good and then reality comes back and smacks him in the face to remind him who he is, who his family is, and what they’ve done to the world. 

_See if they’ll station you in Kenya_  – she said.

Kenya? It would be nice to go back. He traveled there, and a number of other places around the world while he was trying to run from his past. He was an adventure junkie for awhile. After what happened to them, not much scared him. But the idea that they’ve taken the creatures  **OFF** the islands? That contributes substantially to his sleeplessness. Hadn’t they learned anything? Is there a limit to their hubris?

_I keep seeing it mentioned but everyone is distracted by the shiny pretty park_ – she said. The shiny, pretty park that was built basically over-top of the blood that had shed there so many years ago. And mentioned? Mentioned where? 

  


* * *

  


* * *

Damn her.

He stuck to the script she’d given him and just like she predicted they welcomed him to the fold with open arms.

And assigned him to the one place he vowed he would never again go.

He has to whisper-scream at her in the closet of the hotel room near the airport. “I hate this! I hate islands. And heights. And electricity. And everything modern. And dinosaurs. And you!”

“ _No you don’t. Have fun!_ ”

Fuming, he pockets his phone, doing his best to ignore his sister’s chipper sign-off and the sinking feeling that she’s sending him in to be her spy cause she wants to know what it’s like to be an only child.

  


* * *

  


* * *

Of course she lied about being able to hack the place. He’s sitting at his desk typing away like a good little worker bee when her black and white message appears on his screen.

## 

He stares at the screen, a bit stunned. The anger belatedly strikes and starts to warm him, moving him to respond to his sister. Because  _of course_  she was able to hack in. Makes him wonder why the hell he’s on this damned island?! And then he realizes the command she’s given him. He’s gotta find Grady. Grady, as in…

## 

_That_ Grady. The one that lives off in some little space separate from the rest, versus the provided barracks. The staff falls into two categories wherein it pertains to Owen. They either think he’s crazy brave or just plain crazy.

## 

Her two word reply has him glaring at the computer screen long enough for someone to notice and ask him who peed in his cereal this morning.

Lexi wants him to find Owen, the ex-navy- _something-that-nobody-can-give-a-straight-answer-to,_ Grady. Rumors abound as to what, exactly, Grady did while serving in the United States Navy. Finding Grady isn’t a problem, per se. He’s either out at his place or over with his team, training with the animals. 

Everyone here calls them animals. Like they’re a pack of llamas or something.

Even thinking about it sends a shudder through him.  _That’s_  the problem. If he goes to find Grady, odds are the man won’t be at home. Working with those creatures daily?

He can still hear the sounds their claws made on the tiled kitchen floor. The way they called to each other as they hunted him. Him and —

## 

He waits but she doesn’t respond. Oh she saw his response. She’s just choosing to be annoying about it because she’s off somewhere safe and he’s here. Here in the new place that is just as safe as it ever was, despite all the fancy tech and the walls and the gates and shit that makes people think everything is A-OK when it isn’t.

* * *

  


* * *

It’s not unusual, so it doesn’t cause much of a stir when he simply stands there outside the perimeter of the viewing area unable to move a foot further. It unfailingly draws a crowd of staffers, the drills that they run with the raptors. Nobody really pays much mind to the few that freeze up and can’t do anything but watch from a distance. Some don’t even manage that. Most are mesmerized by the precision. Most never had nightmares of the click of claws on tile, or the calls echoing in the confined space. Most don’t understand what it means to be hunted, afraid for their lives.

“Come on up, Tom! You’ve gotta see this!”

He can barely unclench his hands and they want him to climb up the risers for the view down into the pit? He can hear them. That’s more than enough. Up? Never gonna happen.

Nobody has asked about the scars that traverse the upper portion of his palms, but he hasn’t gone about advertising them either. He used to make up outlandish sports injuries, accidents that happens during daring adventures. Standing here, on the same ground where he received the jolt to the system all those years ago, he can’t think of anything but the truth:  _I was climbing an electric fence, fleeing for my life._

Lexi would kill him if he blew his cover, even if it was her tell-all – released after their grandfather’s passing – that revealed every horrible detail of what had happened to them during those horrible few days.

It’s really a miracle they haven’t figure out who he is all on their own. Do people really change all that much from their adolescent years onward? Surely they’ve got some computer generated estimation of his appearance floating around out there. It’s INGEN for fuck’s sake. They probably have a 3D model or cloned copy of him shoved in a closet somewhere.

It’s only as everyone is leaving, heading home for the wind-down after a long long day, that he’s able to begin to unclench his fingers. There’s little to no feeling on the places where the fence sent the current coursing through his system. He’s almost forgotten what his hands looked like before.

“Smart to be afraid of them.” 

Tom flinches, hard, at the passing comment offered to him. It’s meant as a kindness, and he’s somewhat grateful for it, but he’s also tempted to snort out a jaded laugh in response:  _Don’t I know it._  Better not. Better to be on guard whenever he’s around Grady. Owen is always watching, always appraising. If anyone could figure him out… Tom continues trying to flex feeling back into his fingers as he turns to acknowledge the statement, and the man speaking it. 

“Just don’t let them know it.” 

“Oh, I’m,” Tom swallows what little saliva he has in his mouth as he shakes his head. Remember what normal feels like? Be normal. Act normal. “I’m good. Never plan on getting that close…”  _Ever. Again._  

Where Tom has spent the day indoors, Owen has been out in the sun, out doing his job - training the ‘animals’. Why is he on Lexi’s radar? He loves his job. Loves the  _raptors_. 

Owen squints at him, the setting sun casting the world in an yellow-orange hues. “Why are you here, then?” 

Very good question. 

  


* * *

  


* * *

He’s kept himself updated through the years. Only a fool would remain ignorant, even if the subject matter induced night terrors that left him in a cold sweat. His sense of wonder never really left. It just got diluted by trauma and a strong sense of self preservation.

Unlike most of his coworkers, he doesn’t take advantage of the behind the scenes access to the creatures.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it.

Even shielded by the pretty pretty presentation provided for the public he still feels it, that deep sense of wrongness. Even when he accidentally stumbles upon a vet transporting an ill adolescent brachiosaur, Lexi’s favorite veggie-sauruses, it’s there.

_Don’t get to comfortable_  – a quiet voice within whispers –  _be ready for what comes next_.

While he waits for the next set of orders from Lexi he continues to question and probe the others to find out what happened to the last rube she duped into cooperating. Apparently there are no answers to be had. Everyone is either holding to one hell of a gag order, or they still don’t trust him – still view him as an outsider.

It helps that Grady seems to like him, extending invitations to the training facility to observe – that he continues to politely decline now that familiarity has been established – and out for drinking and cards and stories at the shack when the weather holds. They sweat, and drink, talk and laugh, and little by little he learns things about the team working to keep the park in working order – things Lexi can’t find out sifting through the servers.

But alcohol loosens lips. After spending so long listening to others he finally starts to share, too, finding himself wanting to be part of the unit.

“I remember,” he mutters, tasting the bitter hops from his beer on his lips, “back what it was like before. You remember – you guys remember what it was like going to a zoo?”

Grady nods lightly, “Before a theme park full of dinosaurs became a thing. When did seeing a T-Rex become boring?”

“Exactly! Man I used to love going to the zoo. I mean. Nothing like seeing lions, or elephants, or gazelle in a natural preserve on their indigenous continent… But then  _dinosaurs!_  Man. That blew my mind when I first heard.”

Echoes of his sentiment bubble up around their little group –  _Same, man! Same._

Distracted by memory, Tom smiles at the middle distance, chuckling intermittently, “I had all these books. Drove my sister nuts with facts. I was… I was convinced it was the best thing I’d ever heard of.  _Dinosaurs!_  In the flesh.”

“So what changed?”

Grady’s words snap him back, blinking, from the long-unexamined edges of his memory where the fragments of little boy he once was remain. Too late he realizes what he’s done. Too late he senses the danger of participating in the conversation. Because it hadn’t been a conversation, not with Grady there, more like an interrogation, a trap, and he’s stepped neatly into the middle of the snare.

He swallows, giving himself a few more seconds to figure out what to say. “I grew up.” He gives what he hopes is a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. It is an excuse that would track… save for the fact that most of the others sitting there nursing their own drinks also had the same obsession when they were younger. For them, it translated into a career path that led them to the park.  

The others don’t seem to give his statement a second thought. They’re too busy drinking and offering up their own accounts of favorite dinosaurs, past and present. His problem is Grady, who doesn’t immediately laugh like the rest and offer up his own answer. Surprisingly, not the creatures he works with on a daily basis, but the trikes. 

  


* * *

  


* * *

## 

It’s the same message he’s sent his sister for the past three days. 

Still no answer.

## 

He wouldn’t put it past Lex to give him the silent treatment. Always was like that when she wasn’t getting her way. You were either with her, or against her, and fuck you if you were against her. 

So far nobody has come to arrest him. Every drill makes him sweat. Every security gate he has to pass through makes him flinch. One day the doors won’t open and he’ll know exactly why.

Curious that Owen hasn’t blown the whistle on him. He’s certainly not going to bring it up, just on the off chance his paranoia has overwhelmed his rational brain and Grady  _doesn’t_  know. 

“Two more days.” He promises himself, “Two more - and then I’m out.” People quit their jobs all the time. There’s always a way out. Some are just easier than others. 

Turns out he waited a day longer than he should have. 

  


* * *

  


* * *

He doesn’t bother packing a bag in preparation for getting the hell off the island. Stuff? He doesn’t need the few pieces of clothing he’s amassed in the attempt to blend in with the rest of the staff. He’ll just get up and walk right out of the life he spent the past few months building. With any luck he’ll be miles away before the sun has risen, well beyond anyone’s reach by the time they figure out anything’s wrong. 

He feels a small twinge of guilt over the potential worry he’ll cause. Will there be a manhunt? An investigation into his disappearance? Will he just become a statistic, one of many lost to the island. 

Lex? Lex will find him eventually. Or he’ll reach out, once he figures she’s regained her calm again. 

For a moment he had considered staying out drinking one last time. Talk and laugh with these people who risk theirs lives daily and don’t even really seem conscious of that fact. But then reason had won out. Easier to travel without having to battle a hangover. 

As he enters his efficiency for the last time he reviews everything for tomorrow. The name of the boat: the Zafiro, the name of the captain and the outrageous sum he’s being paid and…

He’s over the threshold when he realizes something is wrong, the door shutting behind him.  Someone is in the room. He’s in the middle of tossing his keys on the side-table as his body reacts, seizing for a moment and sending his keys wildly into the wall only to drop behind the table and down to the floor. 

He remembers all-too-well the feeling of an electric shock. The popping noise that happens, and the way your muscles jump as a result. This shock is similar, though it hurts a great deal less. 

“Jesus! What the fu—”

“Listen here you little shit!” Lexi stalks towards him, one hand clenched into a ball at her side, the other extended, her pointer finger aimed at him. 

“Lex! What the hell?!” He gives his head a shake, “What are you doing here?” 

She doesn’t stop until she’s close enough to shove her fist into his chest. Hard. “Making sure my little brother doesn’t fuck up the plan. Are you happy now? We’re both here.” 

His jaw keeps trying to drop open of it’s own accord. He reaches up to rub absently at the spot on his chest where she punched him. Great. Fabulous. Now what? It doesn’t necessarily mess up his exit… 

But how did she get here? How did she get in? Actually, in terms of acquired skills, breaking and entering doesn’t surprise him in the least. So - yea - she can figure out her own damn way off the island. As to how he feels at the moment? He releases a long breath, returning her glare as he kneels down to begin the search for his keys. “Ecstatic.” 

She continues to berate him as he blindly gropes beneath the table, carpet the only thing greeting his fingertips, but he isn’t really listening. Now the lack of replies make sense. She had been on her way here. One mention that he thinks someone figured out his identity and she packs up… to do what? 

He doesn’t get to ask her. A hard knock on his door precedes it bursting inward, followed by four members of security and lots more yelling. 

Oh right. Every inch of the park, staff dwellings included, is monitored. 

  


* * *

  


* * *

All jeeps aren’t bad. They’re spacious, and reliable… it’s just keeps  _here_  that he has a problem with. Jeeps on this damn island. Particularly decked out jeeps, as though the additional safety features are going to make a damned bit of difference. Metal bends, glass breaks, and then hello there claws and jaws. 

He was one sleep away from getting on a boat. He was just one night away from putting Isla Nublar behind him, which is right where it belonged. 

It’s a small comfort that his hands remain unbound while his sister’s are zip-tied together at the wrists. She sits with her hands in her lap, calm as anything, which only makes him glare harder at her out of the corner of his eye. Big surprise her silence was considered hostile. It was just because he couldn’t provide a halfway decent answer that he’s going along for a ride as well. 

Talented lot of spies they are. He begins mentally reevaluating his estimations of Lexi’s breaking and entering skills. Couldn’t she have interrupted the security feed or something? If she  _had,_ security wouldn’t have known about her presence and wouldn’t have further identified his room as the one she targeted once gaining access to the staff compound. 

The radio crackles to life: 

> _“This is control. Put out a park wide alert for–”_

Neither the driver nor the guard in the passenger seat had moved a muscle but the message had cut off. Halfway through. 

Is this a warning about Lexi? Surely this unit had reported in that they’d apprehended her and were already headed back. Which means… 

“Control?” The guard in the passenger’s seat is on his headset, “Control come in? Please repeat. You cut off, please repeat.” 

Not good. Oh this is so very not good.  In the seat next to him he feels Lexi tense up, too.

Something is Happening in the park and once again they are here to bear witness. 

  


* * *

  


* * *

The worst four words he ever could have heard the guard say, causing every hair on his body to stand on end:  **ASSET OUT OF CONTAINMENT.**

So they left them. All four of the security guards had left them to help establish a perimeter while the ACU did their thing.

“I really, really hate this island.” Alone in the jeep again - because leaving the Murphy siblings alone in a vehicle is a thing that happens, apparently - they feel free to talk to one another once more… even if begrudgingly. 

Lex rolls her eyes at him, “I. Know. Will you shut up about it already?” 

He returns fire with an eye-roll of his own. “Why? This all apart of your genius plan? Getting arrested?”

“Detained.”

“And left, locked in–” he leans forward to peer over the back of the driver’s seat at the steering wheel column. No keys. “–an abandoned vehicle, while it’s more than likely there are  _dinosaurs loose out there_ ** _AGAIN_**? Cause I just can’t see the upside to that plan.” 

She’s only half listening to him, frowning down at her zip-tied wrists and how she’s connected to the seat restraint. “Uh-huh… Hate, hate, hate.” Then she looks up, turning her neck to look sidelong at him as she shifts her hands the few inches that she’s able. “When you’re done, mind hot-wiring the car so we can get the hell out of here?” 

  


* * *

  


* * *

With a measure of uncertainty he stares at the wires now protruding from the steering wheel column. Even with her seat belt unbuckled Lexi could only reach as far as the back of the seats in front of her, which meant the task fell to him. Leaning forward as far as she could gave her a great vantage point from which to snark out orders - but not much more. 

Shame he couldn’t find something to snip the zip ties with and cut his sister loose. 

Hunched over and perplexed -  _no, **NOT**   _hesitant that he would once again feel a jolt to the system, this time only as strong as the vehicle’s battery - is how Grady finds him… and yes, the rap on the driver’s side window  _did_  nearly give him a heart attack. 

As he opens the driver’s side door Owen raises his eyebrows, first at Tim, and then over Tim’s shoulder to Lexi. Snorting out a breath of air he looks back at Tim, giving a small shake of his head as he waves him over into the passenger’s seat. 

As the car gains another occupant - one that smells strongly of… gasoline?? -  Owen deftly picking up the hanging wires and resuming the task where Tim left off, Owen offers the siblings a weary smile, “Damn. You two and this island  _really_ don’t mix.”

**HA!**  Tim glances back at Lexi, triumphant. He  _knew_  Grady knew. Grinning, despite Lexi’s exaggerated eyeroll, he turns back to the man currently trying to spark the vehicle to life. “How long have you known?” 

“With 100% certainly, all of two seconds. Before that? I knew something was off for maybe - maybe a few weeks.” 

Lex shoves her knee into the back of the passenger’s seat, thereby into Tim’s back, “See? Everything was fine! I was  _so close_  to breaking through to the Kenyan files, too.” 

Moments before the jeep roars to life Owen scowls, “Kenyan files?” 

With a way to safety - to get to the control compound quickly, at least - nobody cares much to delve further into the plan that went to shit. 

Tim braces his hands on the dashboard as the jeep lurches forward and they pick up speed. They’re going much too fast, considering the terrain, but knowing that’s at stake – probably not fast enough. It’s tempting to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend he’s somewhere else. Anywhere else. Damn he really doesn’t want to die on Isla Nublar - in a car or from something worse. Dimly, he feels Lexi giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Okay?” 

He swallows to wet his throat, “Yea. Just - let’s keep out of the treetops?” He shakes his head to clear the threat of flashbacks. “And no scaling any electric fences. I just want off this island. If we can just do that, I don’t much care how…” 

Owen emits a hollow laugh, “After what I just saw? You’re probably going to regret you said that.”

  


* * *

  


* * *

* * *

* * *

  


[ _And simply cause my brain has fully accepted Brie and Tom as the siblings Murphy, here are more headcanons with accompanying gifs of the pair of them and their longstanding - and ongoing - history with INGEN and dinoaurs._ ]

 

> re: the time and devotion towards rectifying the family name… even if it didna go so well for them this time around. You just  _know_ the pair won’t leave it alone. Too much is invested. And it wort of seems like fate that they’re gonna end up  _CHOMP_ ed by some sort of creature with  **TOO-MANY-TEETH**

* * *

 

> Lex “ _You know I’m starting to have a bad feeling about this_ ” Murphy and Tim “ _I don’t like the look you’re giving me cause this was **YOUR**  plan and it’s too damn late to turn back now_” Murphy, after they’ve successfully acquired the files pertaining to INGEN and the site in Kenya

* * *

 

> And we all know how well things turn out one they get to the African continent. 
> 
> Infiltrating the site in Kenya wasn’t off the table.  _His_  cover never officially got blown. Grady knew who he really was, but  _The Incident_ at Jurassic World interrupted a deep dive into why, exactly, one of the Murphy siblings was found on the island. The security officers that logged the initial discovery of Lex Murphy breaking into the staff compounds never filed subsequent reports, and she wasn’t listed among the survivors that fled on the cruise ships once order was restored. 
> 
> You’d think someone would learn that dinosaurs and man were never meant to mix. Profits are too tempting, perhaps. And the desire to say:  _Look what I can do!  
>  _
> 
> Eventually the world will have enough of all the running, and screaming, and bloodshed … right? 

**Author's Note:**

> I face/namecast Tom Hiddleston in the story for reasons... and after watching Kong Skull Island and observing the chemistry between the two actors, ended up seeing Brie Larson as Lexi. 
> 
> The story sort of jumps between moments - and runs us right up into the events as seen in the Jurassic World movie [sort of].


End file.
